


The Year Nightmare (Accidently) Stole Gyftmas

by AcidGreenFlames



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Boy Polly, Dark Sanses, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Minor Original Character(s), Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:55:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28766679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcidGreenFlames/pseuds/AcidGreenFlames
Summary: Nightmare just wanted one quiet night after an agreed ceasefire with his brother over the Gyftmas holidays.No dice.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 49





	The Year Nightmare (Accidently) Stole Gyftmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kirango_Rouge](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirango_Rouge/gifts).



> Merry Christmas to Kiran! They were my Secret Imp for the fandom wide secret santa! 
> 
> The prompt I wrote with was "Bad Boy Sans Polly Doing Harmless Crimes." and this is what i came up with. I had a lot of fun writing this, and I really hope you enjoy it! ^-^

If there was one thing that Nightmare could rely on the multiverse for, it was the consistency of time itself. When it was December, it was December throughout the multiverse, regardless of the _year_ that universe took place in.

He had seen many time periods and passed through many worlds, and sucked back the negativity like a tropical drink each and every time, but time, stayed the same. When it was December in 2020, it was December in 1920 or even 3020. The Year didn’t matter, time did,

It was a blessing, in of itself, that time was standard throughout the multiverse, the one constant. It made coordination easy during raids, that when he was picking up the boys at 0400 in his world, it meant that it was 0400 in the world they were raiding in. 

It also made the yearly ceasefire with his brother and his dorky little friends, that much easier.

He had scoffed when his brother had suggested it, had asked, almost shyly, for a temporary ceasefire at Gyftmas. A break, of sorts, for the days leading up to Gyftmas and going into Newyears, and how Nightmare had _laughed_ at the idea.

A break? _Him!_ It was preposterous on a cellular level, so cringe worthy, so _ridiculous_ that when Dream had suggested it in the lull between one raid and another, Nightmare had laughed so hard he couldn’t breathe. He had actually doubled over and had slapped his thigh as he gasped, making squeaky noises as he tried to catch his breath.

The idea had been so laughable, so inconceivable that Nightmare couldn’t _believe_ the bullshit that Dream was even proposing. He had actually laughed his way to the portal home, had planned to do the exact opposite and frankly ruin Dream’s Gyftmas for proposing such a stupid idea.

He’d do it, simply because he could.

He was going to go through with it too, he would _ruin_ Gyftmas just to get under his brothers’ proverbial skin, and he had even been _excited_ to do it too. Or at least, he had, until he had proposed the idea to his team and four sets of hopeful eye lights shined back at him. The idea, the thought, of having Gyftmas break, had actually… _delighted_ them.

They had been excited by the idea of having Gyftmas break, and well, Nightmare had only one weakness and that was the team. So, when _they_ had wanted a break, it hadn’t been a laughing matter any longer, and a matter of need.

It was the only thing that would have made Nightmare formally agree to a temporary ceasefire for Gyftmas.

Such as it was, they got their break. No raids, missions or fighting in the days leading up to Gyftmas, nothing for the days between that and New Years Eve, and total peace for the few days after. Two full weeks of calm and relaxation, a chance to recharge batteries, and unwind.

There were, of course, draw backs. A downside that Nightmare hadn’t anticipated, and really, he should have seen this coming. He should have known from the start, that this was the inevitable outcome, and really, he should have seen this coming a mile away. 

The boys were board after just three days.

Sitting at his wide, ebony desk on December 24th, Nightmare quietly goes through a stack of paperwork, enjoying a rare moment of peace and quiet that was not often afforded in his world. His stolen realm was home to the most dangerous versions of himself, all with substantial LV and some rather unstable personalities. Fights and altercations were not unusual and a quite night was truly a Gyftmas miracle. 

He flips over his page, going through Killer’s report on food supplies, sorting out what they would need come the new year and what Universes would be the best ones to plunder, when the door to his office opens.

He glances up to see Dust shuffling in, the laces of his black sneakers undone and trailing behind him, dirty with grime. In his arms is Killer’s cat, a spoiled little calico that they named Princess, with fur that was too damn long and got stuck on everything.

She’s as happy and content in Dust’s arms as can be, sitting sprawled out between his forearms, purring loudly like a motorboat had been rammed down her throat. It surprises him still, that such a tiny creature could make such a loud noise.

Dust shuffled into his office, Nightmare sighing when he doesn’t close the door behind himself, and he tracks Dust’s slow shuffle across the room to the leather couch with an azure eye light.

Dust eases into it, twisting to lay down with his feet up so Princess can lay in his lap, prim and proper like a lady of the house. He presses his head back against the arm of the sofa, his bony hands gently petting Princess’s soft fur, and his hood is drawn up over his skull, shadowing his sockets. Its a measure of comfort that he had found when he was having a particularly bad day.

Princess relaxes into him, completely unafraid and her little motor runs harder as she settles into Dust’s lap, her paws tucked under her body as she squinted at Nightmare. He shakes his head at her, glancing to Dust to ensure his stability and well being. He doesn’t think Dust would hurt her, not after the _incident_ , but it pays to pay attention to the stability of his boys.

Dust pets her in long, easy strokes, and sighed softly, easing into the soft leather couch to relax, all good signs that he’s comfortable and calm. He’s doing well enough that intervention isn’t needed tonight, and that eases something in Nightmare’s soul. Shaking his head at them, Nightmare looks down at his paperwork and settles in for the long haul to finish. His thoughts oddly wander, a rarity that he only affords with the ceasefire, and drift to the tiny cat in Dust’s lap.

Princess had been a find from a raid several months ago, and Killer had scraped the bottom of the barrel that was his soul, managing to find empathy for the cat that none of them knew he still had.

When it came to animals, apparently, he still had some, and when he found a kitten in some burning world, he had gone soft, and taken her home.

Horror, delighted and hungry, had wanted to eat her immediately. His argument, that her being meat and all that, meant it was only logical to eat her, and that logic had led to the incident. The incident was a _fight_ that had ensued between Killer and Horror, and had been one for the ages. It had been a full on knock down, no holds barred, full on fight that had destroyed no less then a dozen windows, three rooms, half the library and gotten Dust involved.

In the end, Killer had been victorious, leaving Dust and Horror bruised and pouting, while he gloated over how pretty his new cat was. Simply put, no one bothered Killer’s cat, and after an adjustment period, the furry little rag-a-muffin had become the spoiled little Princess of their base. Nightmare had tripped over more then one cat toy they left around the house, and he didn’t hesitate to hand out the worse duties to them when they didn’t pick up after her. 

Dust at least, is quiet, and Nightmare goes back to his paperwork, until he’s interrupted by Horror.

The door creaks again, when Horror peeks inside, a bag of pilfered popcorn under one of his arms as he scans the inside of Nightmare’s office, grinning when he finds Dust. He doesn’t say anything to Nightmare, just quietly makes his way to the couch to settle in at Dust’s feet, munching loudly on his popcorn.

That was…fine. Dust liked Horror and they kept themselves amused, even if it was distracting and annoying to him. They kept quiet, and it was fine.

So long as Killer didn’t come make a nuisance of himself, all would be well.

There’s a third creek at his door, not long after Horror has settled, and this time Nightmare isn’t able to contain his annoyed sigh as he sits back and lays his hands flat on his desk, leveling a glare across the room.

Cross is hesitant by his door, one hand on the knob, freezing under Nightmare’s intense stare, and the only one of the four who would still be bothered by such a mild look, “What do you want Cross?” he snaps, already annoyed at being disturbed twice already, and he tents his fingers over his paperwork.

Cross hesitates, his crimson and white eye lights flashing to the side as he squirms, and Nightmare narrows his single working socket on him when he whiffle waffles, “I was,” he glances to Dust, whose out right ignoring him and petting Princess. His eye lights flash to Horror, who’s watching him with far too much intensity, as if he were the most interesting thing in the world, “I was just,” he says again, and Nightmare guesses he’s going to say _lonely_ , when he sputters out, “board.”

“And what?” he asks blandly, doesn’t bother to hide his irritation, “Are you expecting me to entertain you?”

Cross shifts, and he shakes his head no, “No, I just.” Nightmare huffs when he shrugs, still not making eye contact.

He gets it, he does. He knows what damage via isolation and loneliness looks like, and if you had looked up those words in the dictionary, you would find a photo of Cross there. Nightmare gets loneliness, and he’s not going to send Cross away.

He waves a dismissive hand to Cross and looks back to his paperwork, “Find a spot and entertain yourself.” He snaps roughly.

When Cross looks up, surprise that he’s allowed to be included is in every inch of his body and his eye lights flash with happiness. He hides it quickly enough, settles himself so he doesn’t look like a fool, and he tries not to fidget.

He gives Nightmare a tight nod, before he quietly moves to the couch, settling in next to Horror. Nightmare watches him cross the room and settles in before going back to his paperwork.

“Wat’cha reading?” Horror suddenly asks, drawing Nightmare’s gaze upwards, and he smirks when he sees the cover of a thick philosophy book that Cross is supposed to be reading.

Nightmare isn’t sure if Cross realizes the book he’s using as a cover is upside down, and well, its Gyftmast, everyone gets one, he supposes. He goes back to his paperwork, so long as they’re all quiet. 

Cross glances to Horror, much to Nightmare’s amusement as he flushes a light lavender, quietly telling him, “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

That brings a grin to Horror’s mouth, and he tilts his head to study the upside-down cover, “Kinda hard to read if your books the wrong way ‘round Crossy.” He shrugs, and he flashes a toothy grin, “I mean, you’re a clever little _cleaver,_ but I don’t think your that _sharp_.”

Cross goes a deeper shade of purple, but it makes Dust huff in his rough voice, “You’ve been using knife jokes all day, get better material. They’re getting _dull._ ”

Laughing, Horror elbows Dust’s knees, grin wide, “Well good thing no one _axed_ you about it!”

Dust huffs another laugh, eased and well as he continues to happily pet Princess, who has now stretched out across his chest, her little eyes squinting happily under the affectionate petting.

Horror loosens, leaning into Cross’s side to look past the cover of the decoy, squinting down at the actual book he was reading, “Lotsa pictures in this one.” He muses as Cross snaps the book shut, his face burning at Horror’s grin, “Thought you were _sharp_ enough to read.”

“I can read!” Cross snaps, indignant and annoyed, huffing out his outrage the same time that Dust informs them mildly, “You’ve used that one already. You’re getting stale.” The whole thing is ridiculous, and it makes Nightmare snort.

Cross flushes harder, making Nightmare shake his skull as he went back to his paperwork, intending on finishing before dinner.

“Will you read it to us?” Horror asks, bright and surprisingly hopeful, and if he’s doing it to mock Cross, there’s no hint of that in his voice. Nightmare can hear the grin in Horror’s tone, and he can feel Cross burning before he lifts his eye lights to Nightmare in question.

Nightmare keeps his aura reeled in tightly, not letting it hamper his team’s oddly calm mood and he nods, “If you must.” He tells them mildly, rolling his wrist to encourage Cross on.

From his seat, Cross _burns_. His face heats in a hot blush, before he clears his throat and opens his book within a book. His voice stutters at first, as he explains who Inuyasha was, and whatever it was he was doing with a girl named Kagome as Horror settles against his side. He pressed his cheek into Cross’s white jacket, looking down at the human manga, as Cross starts to read.

Shaking his head, Horror jabs an elbow into his ribs to stall him, and Cross’s voice peters out to look down at him. Horror looks up at him from under his brow, his working socket a wide, soft blob of red light, “You need to do the voices.”

Cross blinks at him and Nightmare smiles to himself. He listens to Cross swallow the lump in his throat, “What?”

“Voices.” Horror says again, pointing at the book, his finger tapping against what ever page Cross was reading, “They have different voices. Do the voices.”

“I’m not!” Cross starts, just as indignant as before, before Horror interrupts with very quiet words.

“Please? Cross, its Gyftmas.” He says quietly, a slight quiver in his voice, orchestrated to break any defense that Cross has, and he folds faster then Nightmare would have guessed.

Nightmare returns to his paperwork, letting Cross’s voice with the silly tones wash over them, grinning when Horror or Dust giggle at his story, but settle in quietly enough to not disturb Nightmare. Horror settles happily into Cross’s side and lets him read his story to them. Delighted to rest against Cross and listen to him.

The next creak in the floorboards is the one he dreads the most, the one that will assure that he won’t get anything done. Unlike Cross, Horror and Dust, Killer strolls into his office like he has any right to be there with the confidence that the others simply don’t possess.

He doesn’t ask to come in, doesn’t quietly curl up on the couch with the other three to listen to Cross read his manga.

Killer strolls in, all swag and bolster, a grin spread wide across his face, flashing his fangs, “Heya Boss.” He chirps in mock happiness, pausing only to give Princess a scritch behind the ears, earning a trill, before he makes his way to Nightmare.

“Killer,” he says his name, sounding board, and knows that’s the best way to deal with him, don’t give into what he wants, “What do I owe the _pleasure_.”

Killer shivers at the timbre in Nightmare’s voice before crawling over his desk, stretching out to lay across his paperwork. His chin falls into his hand, and he pops up his feet like he’s on the movie cover of an eighty’s romantic comedy, and he gives Nightmare a saucy grin.

Nightmare hisses, drawing back from his wide, ebony desk, sneering out Killers name, “ _Killer!”_

It’s a tactical error, the moment that Nightmare drew back, Killer simply _rolled_ across the desk, and dropped himself heavily into Nightmare’s lap. He gives himself a satisfied little grin and a little wiggle to settle himself more thoroughly into Nightmare’s lap. He stretched out long, so he sat sideways across Nightmare’s lap, his legs dangling over one chair arm and his skull lay nestled against the other, before he went limp with a sigh.

“What are you doing?” Nightmare hissed at him, his azure eye light pulling into an annoyed slit of light, and his tentacles thrashing angrily.

Unbothered by the threat, Killer grinned up at him, “I’m booooard Boss.” He mockingly whines up at Nightmare, causing him to pull a disgusted expression, “All work and no play, make Killer a _dull_ boy.”

He grins up at Nightmare, bright and wide like Nightmare should congratulate him on the pun that was clearly low hanging fruit.

“I’m busy Killer. Go entertain yourself else where.” He snapped, thinking how best to dislodge Killer without actually hurting him.

Killer huffed at him, “Like what?” he crossed his arms and looked endearingly up at Nightmare. It’s a trap, of course it is, and one that Nightmare learned a long time ago not to fall for.

“I don’t know.” He snapped, just wanting to finish his paperwork in peace, “Go steal Gyftmas for all I care, just let me work in peace.” He spat sarcastically at him.

Killer pauses, and blinks up at him in thought, “Can I bring Horror, Dusty and Criss Cross with me?” he askes innocently enough, and that should have been a warning.

“Fine! Yes, just go.” Nightmare huffs sardonically, even as Dust and Cross each hiss at the mangling of their names, but let it never be said, that Killer always gets away with everything.

It is a touchy subject, and one that Killer likes to rub in everyone’s faces.

“You got it Boss!” Killer chirps brightly before he pushes himself off Nightmare’s lap and to his feet. He spins happily to the others, bouncing on his toes as he _beams_ at them, “Well boys, you heard the Boss! Let’s go!”

The three pause, hesitate really, and glance to Nightmare for confirmation, and he’s trained them well that they check in with him before jumping to Killer’s whim.

Annoyed and exasperated, Nightmare waves them on as he straightens his papers, “Go!” he barks at them, trusting in Killer that what ever nonsense he’s cooked up for them will follow his rules, and Killer will return them all back to the castle in one piece, “I just need you lot out of here, so I can focus.”

They glance to each other with a shrug before they slowly stand, tucking books and popcorn into their inventory, and one disgruntled cat is dislodged from a lap. They troop out after Killer, who’s still smiling brightly, loudly proclaiming, “It’s gonna be great guys! Honest, we’re gonna _sleigh_ the competition.” 

Cross closes the door behind him, finally leaving Nightmare at long last with some piece and quiet, with no one in the room but Princess. She slinks her way over to leap into his lap to settle, her motor like purr rumbling as he strokes along her spine and settles in to finish his paperwork.

He does so without a care in the world, and the worry of the team and their distraction leaks away like water off a ducks back, and for a while, he’s at peace.

-

Two and a half hours and several satisfying stacks of completed paperwork later, Nightmare stretches back in his chair, smirking at his hard work. Princess is asleep in his lap, curled up tight and safe, breathing slowly in her comfort, and Nightmare allows himself a moment of utter satisfaction of all that has been completed.

Without the distraction of the others around, he had managed to get everything done in record time, and with more than enough time to perhaps even make a proper Gyftmas dinner. The boys had been surprisingly quiet all afternoon, allowing him to finish.

The peace is short lived as it’s then, and only then, does Nightmare realize his mistake.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

It’s been too quiet for far too long, and suddenly dread fills him. There should have been commotion by now, a fight, a fire alarm, Cross screaming in annoyance as Killer pranks him for the third time this week, but there’s nothing. 

He scrubs at his face and mutters, “For fuck sakes.” As something akin to unease fills him.

What the hell have his idiots gotten into, to keep them occupied for the last few hours that would make the castle this fucking quiet?

_What did they do?_

Princess groans as she’s lifted from his lap, glaring when he gently sat her on his desk, and he raises a brow at her, “Don’t blame me, blame your owner. Killer’s the one who did this to you.”

She lifts her nose in offense before she goes to quickly clean herself, slighted in a way that only cats could be.

Nightmare snorts and gives her one last scratch behind the ears, before he went looking for his team.

He started in the most obvious places. The lounges and the kitchen are empty. As are the training rooms and the TV rooms. The games rooms, the war room and his throne room all yield the same, all suspiciously quiet and empty.

On a whim, he checks outside in the dilapidated gardens. He starts to wonder if they’re still out at what ever half-baked plan that Killer had dragged them too, easy enough for him to track Cross as the only other one who could universe hop.

Worry is only _starting_ to creep through him like a poisoned ivy, when he sees it. Something so out of place in his world, something that _shouldn’t_ be there, and his mouth falls open a little, shocked to see it here.

It’s a sleigh, an actual sleigh, painted with bright red paint that gleams. It’s so shiny that as Nightmare approaches it, a little dumbfounded, he can see his reflection in the paint, and the thing radiates so much positivity that he winces a little from the intent.

There are bright gold bars along all the edges, like little handrails, and black leather tethers sit abandoned at the edge of the sleigh. The whole thing, as massive as it was, sat upon two almost delicate looking runners, _sparkling_ in red and gold.

In utter awe, Nightmare circles the sleigh, not quite believing what he’s seeing, finding this _colour_ in his dark, cruel world, and his mind can’t quite catch up with the fact that its here. He’s a little stunned by its sudden appearance at first, its presence doesn’t make a lick of sense, until he circles it to the other side.

The shock and awe fall away in the face of the scared and ruined side of the sleigh. The gorgeous red paint has been scraped off the side of it, and the back end of the sleigh looks like it has been burnt, black and smoldering.

It looks like it has been scraped against something, part of the back end of the sleigh has caved in a little as if it hit something hard enough to break it, in addition to it being lit on fire.

Nightmare’s expression falls, and his mouth pulls into a flat, annoyed line, “For fucks sakes Killer.” He hisses into the empty, cool air around him, and Nightmare knows, _knows_ , that somehow, someway, this was his fault.

This damaged sleigh was just the beginning of an exceptionally large headache, that much Nightmare is certain. Just as he’s certain this all lays at Killer’s feet.

Rubbing at his socket, Nightmare hisses again, “Fuck.” Before he dissolves into a shadow, intent on finding his team.

-

Nightmare finds them in the dungeons, in the end, and he’s not surprised. Killer has a preferred _aesthetic,_ and stars forbid he do anything without making a show if it. Stars _forbid_ he just do something to get a job done, just do it for the mission, it always had to be for his entertainment.

This, however? This was a step too far.

Nightmare can’t quite believe what he’s seeing, and his first instinct is to drop his face into the palm of his hand in sheer exasperation. He sighs _deeply_ into his open palm, and he fights the urge, the _need_ to throttle the lot of them, but mainly Killer.

He looks up, sighs again, and pinches the bridge of his nasal ridge, before he takes a deep, calming breath. He strives for calm, seeks inner peace that he hadn’t had since his childhood, and he doesn’t quite achieve it as the timbre of his voice rumbles out in a cruel, angry hiss, “What,” he lifts his socket to give them a flat look, “and I can not stress this enough, the hell are you four doing?”

Three out of four freeze and guilty eye lights lift to stare at him with uncertainty, just as Killer spins merrily with a wide grin, “Boss! Glad you could join us! Look what we did!”

“Oh, I’m looking.” He told them dryly, glancing around at the dungeon with utter distaste.

Killer doesn’t hesitate, nor does he exhibit a lick of shame, “Aren’t you proud!” he asks brightly, and Nightmare frowns at the hopeful lit to his voice. Its that softening of his tone, that gentle something, that clues Nightmare into the fact, that this was for his benefit. Although he has no idea where Killer _got_ this stupid idea.

Cross leans over to Dust, his voice low and that makes Nightmare frown. Usually, Cross’s partner was Killer, where he went Cross was sure to follow. Always at Killer’s side to make sure he came home in relatively one piece and it wasn’t often that he took the others side.

“I told you Nightmare wasn’t serious.” Cross mock whispered, glancing to Killer, and frowning when Killer’s beaming grin slowly falls.

“You don’t,” Killer starts, hesitating as his smile lessens, “Like it?”

Nightmare glances around the dungeon with a deep, _deep_ sigh, and he can feel a headache building at his temples. “I…” he stalls and doesn’t know where to look first, he doesn’t know which crime he should stare at the longest

Dust huffs his dry little laugh before he shoves his face back into the velvet red sack, pulling out gifts that don’t belong to him. He pauses to give each one he pulls out an experimental shake, listening to what’s inside, some sound broken, before they’re tossed over his shoulder.

Nightmare rubs his face a little harder and hopes that if he scrubs at his sockets hard enough this horrible image will go away. It’s still there when he opens his socket again, and he shakes his head.

He glances to Killer’s left, where a heavy-set man is bound and gagged, but he appears too be unharmed. Thank the fates, this will be less of an ordeal if the human is intact.

His suit is bright red and made of velvet, trimmed in white fur. The hat on his head is still on but crooked, he’s on his knees and his hands are bound in front of him. His wide blue eyes glance around the room, bouncing from one skeleton to the next, and Nightmare doesn’t blame him when he sweats a little.

Nightmare scrubs his face, and he doesn’t think he has the words to properly describe his sheer exasperation with their current situation, “Did you kidnap Santa Clause?” he asks slowly.

He looks to Killer as he shrugs, “Well yeah.” He turns to one of the massive reindeer, the huge beast paws gently at the ground as he reaches up to scratch at the huge things head. He buries his phalange into the beasts thick, course fur with a grin. 

Nightmare just watches them, a little stunned, and when he didn’t lose his absolute marbles, strictly due to the utter shock he found himself in, Cross picks up one of the apples from the bushel they had pinched from the kitchen.

Still stunned, he watches as Cross lifts the apple to one of the reindeer for it to gently eat from his hand and Cross _smiles_. It’s bright and happy, and Nightmare winces at the wobble of positivity as the great beast’s mouth brushes against the palm of Cross’s hand.

Nightmare sighs again, “Where did you find him?” he asked slowly, his tone icy.

Killer shrugs, “A world where he exists.” his expression softens as he pets the massive shoulder muscle of the beast. It stands a full head and shoulders taller than Killer, but the massive thing mills around gently, nosing at Killer’s jacket pocket.

He grins when it does, and Nightmare watches Killer, one of his _best,_ reach into his pocket to pull out a sugar cube for the reindeer to munch on. He softens when it gently takes the sugar cube from him, and he almost looks like _Sans_ again.

Horror finally looks up from his spot on the floor, cross legged with a book in his lap, his grin bright, “We’re going to cook them!” he tells Nightmare brightly, his grin wide with delight.

All the softness and joy drains from Killer’s face in record time, and Nightmare knows that expression. He knows that Killer likes animals, and the last time he saw that dark manifestation, was the time Horror had tried to eat Princess.

Killer, simply wasn’t having it, “No.” he says firmly, “We’re letting them rest and then we’re going out for another joy ride.” He hisses, drawing Horror’s dark expression to him.

“Meat.” He insisted, his working eye light blowing up to a wide, red blob as he jabbed an angry finger at the reindeer.

Killer steps out in front of his new acquisitions as he stripped his jacket off and let the soft material crumple to the floor. He pulls a sharp knife out from his inventory, taking a step towards Horror, pressing his forefinger into the point of his blade with a grin, “You think so, huh?”

“Stop.” Nightmare snaps, tentacles slapping against the floor just as Horror pushes himself to his feet, an axe suddenly in his hand as his eye light constricted into an angry red slit of magic.

They both still at Nightmare’s command, and he’s learned from his mistake from the last time he let them fight over Princess. Not again, not after the amount of damage they caused over a single cat.

_~~A cat that even Nightmare now adores, but that was neither here nor there.~~ _

Nightmare doesn’t dare guess what they would do in a fight over eight reindeer.

Dust doesn’t even look up from his pilfering of Santa’s magical sack, but Cross stills next to Killer, stepping closer to his partner. Its an interesting fact, Nightmare thinks, but the coming damage to his castle isn’t worth finding out if his loyalty is to Killer or the massive reindeer.

Nightmare takes a deep breath, keeps his anger at bay when he finally asks the question that’s been digging at his mind since his _discovery_ , “Why, in the name of the Fates, did you _kidnap_ Santa Clause from a random universe.”

Horror, Killer and Cross all turned slowly to him, Dust keeps digging through the sack and ignores the lot of them. Horror and Cross slowly look away from Nightmare, looking expectantly to Killer, waiting for him to explain.

Backing down, Killer rocks back on his heels with a frown, “You told us to?” he offers, sounding genuinely confused, and it takes Nightmare a moment to remember what the hell he’s talking about.

“No, you idiot!” he snapped, his mouth turning to sharpened teeth in his irritation, back lit by bright azure magic that makes the human flinch, “Not like this!” he jabbed an annoyed finger at him, “We’re supposed to be on a ceasefire!”

Killer blinked at him, still poking at his finger with the tip of a sharp knife, “Ooooh.” He said slowly, glancing down with pitch black eye lights before he looked back up to Nightmare, “Well. Sorry Boss. You should’a been more specific.”

Horror, Cross and even Dust wince as his tentacles lash out against the ground again, and when Nightmare hisses, his voice has lost its smooth timbre and replaced with nails-on-a-chalk board fury, “I was being _facetious_!”

Killer blinks at him, and then shrugs, “Whoops.”

“Whoops! Killer!” he snaps, extending his hand towards the reindeer and the human, “Whoops is not the appropriate response to this situation! Stars on fire Killer,” he scolds much to Killer’s growing amusement, and Nightmare has to take a breath to calm himself. His voice returns to his normal, “Just, fix this.”

Killer looks briefly disappointed as Horror lights up, but no. Nope! Not this time, they wanted a break, and a break is what they would fucking get.

He jabs an annoyed finger at the plump human, his tone scolding, “Take him back to the sleigh.” He jabs a tentacle at the reindeer, “Hook them back up,” finally a tentacle yanked the sack from Dust, making him pout, “give this back and take him home!” he snaps at them.

Santa looks relieved, like he thinks that Nightmare is an ally, when in reality he just wanted a break and for his team to stop acting like idiots. But, that would be asking too much.

Their groans are like music to his ears, and he grins as they grumble but ultimately fall in line. Dust pouts as he takes the lead of two reindeer, Horror follows suit after stuffing the cookbook back into his inventory, taking two more and quickly follows along at Dust’s heels.

Cross, cowed and his head down follows suit with his own reindeer, skuttling passed Nightmare like a well scolded teenager. 

Its only Killer that hesitates, his hands firm on two reindeer’s reins, “Hey Boss, do you think we could keep one?” he asks hopefully, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Nightmare gives him a flat look, jabbing a finger towards the door, “Go!” he snapped. He earned a long, put upon groan as if Killer were the one who were suffering, like he was a spoiled teenager who was told no for the first time, before he went to follow the others.

Huffing a sigh, Nightmare reached out with a tentacle, wrapping the oily appendage around the binding of the human’s hands, and simply dragged him from the room. He was uncaring as the human grunted, Nightmare yanking him onto his back, dragging Santa along behind him.

“I just wanted one fucking night.” He hissed, cursing the stars and all the Fates before he made his way back to the sleigh. He is uncaring of the stone steps he went up, dragging the human behind him, bumping up along each of the steps, the whole way up.

-

Stepping through the portal, Nightmare frowns at the blast of cold that chills his body and snow fills his shoes.

Heaving a sigh, he rolls his eye light so hard, he’s sure he could have seen through time and space. Because of course he would step into the world that Killer kidnapped the human from, and directly into an ankle-deep snow drift.

Snow leaks wetly into his shoe, and Nightmare does his utmost best to ignore it, to pretend that he’s not in soggy socks and so very annoyed by it. The angel forbid that he gets _one night_ where anything went right, and if he ever did, tonight was clearly not that night.

Gripping on the lead reindeers tether, he scans the area as his boys’ troop through the portal, the old man, still bound, is back in his damaged sleigh, and his magic sack back where it belonged. The eight massive reindeer have been hitched back into their positions, and lined up in a neat little line. They _do_ look impressive hooked up into their places , pulling the sleigh with ease, yet gentle enough that they took apples from Cross without harming him.

Heaving a tired sigh, Nightmare leads them all the way through the portal as the others follow suit. Killer, bringing up the rear, is still pouting about the whole thing, annoyed that he has to give everything, the sleigh and deer included, back.

Cross is at Nightmare’s side, the guard scanning the area as if Nightmare weren’t the scariest thing out here and needed to be guarded. Still, the fact he was covering his flank was endearing none the least, and when Nightmare speaks to him, he’s much calmer, “This is where you found him?”

Cross looks over to him and nods, “Yeah, was about here.” He glances around again, stilling and his eye lights constricted into sharp circles, “Nightmare, your six o’clock.”

Breathing deeply, Nightmare struggles for patience, “Cross, you do not need to use military…” he stalls, his voice sputtering out when he sees his brother speaking with the local Sans, a clearly upset swap, who has a little green hat on his head and speaking with wild arm motions, “Oh fuck.” 

Like he’s summoned him, Dream suddenly looks over to them, his annoying little friends, Blue and Outer, are standing next to Ink as the distraught Sans went through the tale of his teams daring kidnapping, and Nightmare feels his soul sink.

Dream’s gold eye lights glanced between them all, like he can’t decide which one he wants to settle on before they pin Nightmare with a flat, annoyed look.

Cross cringes when Dream pins him with a look, and he steps back and behind Nightmare as Dream turns away from the clearly upset swap and makes a beeline for them. Dream’s face is puffed up in annoyance, his gold cape swirling behind him as he marches towards them with purpose. Nightmare just sighs and rolls his shoulders back.

He doubts this will come to blows, not on Gyftmas, and Nightmare allows himself to fall into his usual lazy slouch. Behind Dream, his little friends have realized why he has stormed off, and the little swap Sans makes a high-pitched noise before he goes taring past Dream as quickly as his short legs can carry him. He shoots passed Nightmare, and goes directly to the human in the sleigh with a shrill cry.

Nightmare lets him go, a show of good faith, and he glances back to Dream’s little friends, and hardly worries when none of them make a move to intervene.

Good, experience has taught them that when it came to his brother, they’re better off to fuck off and let he and Dream work out their differences.

Dream reaches them just as the swap has climbed into the sleigh and began untying Santa Clause, and Dream gives him an exasperated look. He wonders if it’s the same one he uses on the boys.

“Really?” Dream asks him flatly, hands on his hips, and Nightmare is amused that he’s so annoyed.

He gives his brother a slick smirk, “A mistake, I assure you.” He tells Dream smoothly, just to watch his brothers face colour with irritation.

“How is this a mistake?” Dream asks dryly, and it makes Nightmare’s grin widen.

“A misunderstanding.” He tells Dream smoothly, thrusting the reindeer’s reins into his brother’s hands, “One that I have now remedied.” He glances back to his team and their varying levels of amusement, all save Killer, who is still pouting.

Nightmare looks back to his brother, “Your ceasefire remains. We have returned the old man back to his world, the reindeer are unharmed and now under your supervision.” Dream squints at him, untrusting, and Nightmare doesn’t blame him. It’s a fair assessment, and the reason Nightmare does not mention the sleigh and the damage it has sustained in Killer’s joy ride.

Coolly, as if Nightmare isn’t to blame for all this, he turns away from his brother, nodding to the team to return to the portal, it was time to go before they overstayed their welcome. Just as easily, they turn and intend to return home, where Nightmare can enjoy what’s left of the evening in relative peace, with any luck.

“Wait!” He sighs heavily, and of course he couldn’t get this lucky.

They turn back to the old man, and Santa has been freed from his binds. He’s standing, leaning over the ruined edge of the sleigh after being freed by the little elf Sans that was accompanying him. They all pause, waiting for him to continue, tense and waiting for vitriol to be hurled at them.

Instead, the human’s blue eyes softened with a sort of pity that instantly puts Nightmare’s hackles up and his anger starts to swirl. When he speaks, he’s impossibly kind and even smiles at them, “We all make mistakes.” He starts, looking pointedly to Killer before he continues, “But doing the right thing, can be hard to do and it should be rewarded.”

They all blink at him, and even Nightmare frowns, “What?”

The human pulls open the sack that not all that long ago, Dust had been pillaging. The little Sans next to him shifts, “Santa, are you certain?” his baby blue eye lights glare holes into Killer’s face, impressive that he even does it directly to him.

Killer smirks back, grin knife sharp and when he licks his teeth, the little swap Sans cringes away.

Still, the human huffs a jolly laugh, “Of course I am Sans. It is after all Gystmas, and everyone deserves a gift on Gyftmas, if they do the right thing.”

Even Nightmare squints at him, expecting a trap, when he pulls out a small box wrapped in red paper, “Dust.” The old man says softly, reaching out to hand the colourfully wrapped box to him.

Dust’s missed matched eye lights brighten briefly as he reaches up to take the gift in awe, surprised that anyone who didn’t know him would be so kind, “Thank you.” He huffs softly, surprised and there’s a rare trickle of joy.

Nightmare swears, if they open it to be coal, Nightmare is getting Error and they will burn this whole world down.

Grinning shallowly, Dust turns away, and returns home, as Santa reaches into his sack for another gift. This one has bright silver paper with see through snowflakes, “Horror.” He says gently, handing the box over to him.

Horror’s red eye light bloats wide in surprise, despite seeing Dust get his own gift, and in the same awe as his partners, he quickly takes the gift as if he’s afraid Santa will change his mind, “Thank you.” He says in a rush, before he turns and practically flees for the portal.

Please, _please,_ don’t let this be coal. Nightmare isn’t sure he could manage to hold his fury down until after the ceasefire if this human hurts them with shoddy gifts.

Santa grins after Horror, and pulls another gift, wrapped in shiny white paper, “Cross?”

Cross blinks, and approaches slowly, hesitantly leaving Nightmare’s side. He glances back to him, checking in that everything was fine, before he slowly reached for the gift. His fingers wrap around the gift with a gentleness the others don’t have any longer, and his grin is so painfully hopeful, that it shifts something even in Nightmare, “Thank you.” He whispers soft and kind, before he retreated for the portal as well.

Yup, that decides it. If its coal, Nightmare will kill everything here, and take the stupid reindeer back for Killer to mind.

Santa reaches into his sack again, and he barely gets the green box out before Killer has rushed expectantly to the side of the sleigh, his soul pulsing brightly at his chest and already reaching up with grabby hands for the gift.

Santa chuckles deeply despite the annoyed look of the little swap Sans at his side, “Killer.” He says happily handing over the package.

Killer takes it easily, vibrating with excitement, grinning widely when he realizes there’s one for Princess attached to his gift as well. He turns on the balls of his feet, running his hands over the smooth paper, excitement making him actually _grin_ at the paper.

Nightmare sighs, “Killer?” he calls deeply, drawing those deep, dark sockets, and his grin doesn’t fall at all, “What do you say?”

Killer’s grin falls a little and he blinks at Nightmare before it seems to click in his head what Nightmare is referring too, “Oh. Right.” He turns back to Santa Clause and grins, “You’re welcome.”

The human’s smile falls a little and even Nightmare is confused. He huffs a sigh, and pinches the bridge of his nasal ridge, “Killer, what?”

Killer doesn’t look at him, instead he holds Santa’s gaze with a grin, “I didn’t let Horror eat the reindeer.” He tells them, so painfully flippant about it, surely scandalizing the little Sans next to the human, “So, you’re welcome.” He says again as he spins away and makes for the portal. 

Nightmare sighs, and well, close enough. No one was expecting miracles tonight.

He’s about to leave, about to turn away, when Nightmare glances and catches sight of the rest of the Star Sanses, waiting for this to be over so they can return to their holiday cheer, and Nightmare’s head tilts, “How do you keep your idiots in line?”

Dream’s face flushes, “They’re not idiots.” He huffs, earning a shrug from Nightmare.

“That’s debatable. My question still stands.” Nightmare tells him blandly, his azure eye light shining brightly.

Dream huffs, “I have backpack leashes.” He admits quietly, earning a dark, startled laugh from Nightmare. Dream glares at his brother, “I only use it for emergencies.” He tries to defend.

Nightmare holds up his hands in surrender, “Whatever you say brother.” He says easily, still chuckling before he turned from Dream with a smirk, intending on returning home to enjoy the evening with his team. 

“Nightmare?” he pauses at the sound of his name, hesitating as the old human holds out the last gift to him, wrapped in bright gold wrapping, “This one is for you.” Santa offers, and he feels something cramp in his soul.

For…him?

He was getting a gift as well? Not just his team?

Nightmare recovers quickly, shakes off the weird feeling that filled him and ignored his brothers weird look at his stumble. He reaches out with a tentacle to take his gift, and nodded, “Thank you.” Because he was fucking polite, thank you very much.

He turns again, intending on going home, when his brother’s hesitant voice calls out, “Nightmare?” he pauses again, with a deep sigh, but doesn’t turn around. Dream hesitates before he quietly adds, “Merry Gyftmas Nightmare.”

Nightmare pauses, feels his brow furrow as something _uncramps_ in his soul, and he clears his throat, “Merry Gyftmas Dream.”

He doesn’t wait to see his brother’s expression light up in delight. Instead, he focuses back in on the portal and returns home.

-

Sitting cross legged on his bed, Nightmare runs his hand over the glossy paper of his gift and hesitates as uncertainty fills him.

Unlike what he was expecting, the gifts they had received had been well thought out and kind. Produced by magic for them, from a magic sack that was from a world that they didn’t belong. Gifts that had actually made his boys grin, actually made them all smile. Gifts that had _meant_ something.

Dust got a music player already loaded with soft, relaxing music and headphones. Horror, a new _set_ of cookbooks, and one that had recipes for more _exotic_ meat. Cross, an array of board games, multiplayer ones that they could all play together, filling the need to be with others. Killer, a _set_ of shiny new knifes, because he clearly needed more of those. Princess received new treats and cat nip toys.

Which left his own gift.

While the others were exploring and looking at their own, Nightmare had slipped away, wanting privacy to open his own. Something told him he should and would want to be alone when he opened it, that something in here was special and was no one else’s business.

Taking a breath, he flips the box over and peels open the paper, quick to discard it on the silk sheets as he pulls a small, flat box from the paper. Frowning, he opens the box, and stills at what’s inside.

A bright gold crown glitters in the dim light of his room, one that had a crescent moon at its crest and one that Nightmare wouldn’t doubt would fit him perfectly. His hands shake when he carefully extracts the cold gold from its box, and he swallows the lump in his throat.

His crown glitters like he remembers how it used to, and he was sure, _sure,_ he’d never see it again. Had been so certain that, after his corruption and he threw it as hard as he could have, he would never see it again.

Yet, by some weird Gyftmas magic, here it was. Returned to his hand, and his all over again. Nostalgia chokes him as he runs his thumb over the flat gold wall, and he can’t quite believe he has it back.

There’s a creek at his door, and it feels like his soul will stall out and he shoves the crown under his pillow just as Killer pokes his head into the room. He grins at Nightmare, sharp and amused, and wisely doesn’t ask about his gift, “Heya Nightmare. Cross is setting up Monopoly.” And there’s a devious, slick smirk across his mouth that speaks of a night of fighting and cheating, “You wanna play with us?”

He hesitates, tilts his head, and takes in Killers hopeful expression, and near instantly gives in. Anything for his team.

Still, he huffs out a put-upon sigh, “Very well.” And Killers face brightens.

Nightmare follows him out of his room, his crown, although a nice gift has been long forgotten. He comes into one of the living rooms of the castle, where his team have set up the board, and Princess is sitting happily in Dust’s lap.

He’s stroking her in long, gentle pats as she stares around the room with squinty, happy eyes, like she knows she owns everything.

Killer gleefully sits between Cross and Dust, scratching her ears, earning a louder purr from her. Slowly, Nightmare sits between Cross and Horror, and knows this is better then any gift. Better then any gold or old crowns, or anything else.

He has his team, and he would do anything, destroy any threat, for them. He would use every resource, deploy every weapon in his arsenal for them.

For now, things are peaceful as they divi up the pieces and the money, and Nightmare settles in for what will surely be a long game of fighting and cheating from them all.

And frankly, Nightmare wouldn’t be anywhere else, or have it any other way.

 _This_ was his family. 

**Author's Note:**

> This might have been the most wholesome thing I have ever written ^-^ 
> 
> Thank you for reading and happy new years!


End file.
